Kitchens of the Great Midwest by J. Ryan Stradal
My rating: 4/5 cats
this is a book that uses that kooky structure i so enjoy when it’s done right. like John’s Wife and The Life and Death of Sophie Stark, we learn about the life of one character, here eva thorvald, through the eyes of the people who knew her at various stages in her life. in a series of episodic stories told by her father, her first boyfriend, a jealous rival, her cousin, etc etc – people who knew her well and people who knew her briefly, we watch her progress from an orphaned baby to a master chef, successful and bold.
like those other books, everything we know about eva comes through the filter of another, with their own perspectives and prejudices. and while i liked this book very much, i don’t think the potential of the unusual structure was exploited to its fullest extent. normally in a book set up in this way, there’s some psychological unpacking required of the reader, a complexity that needs to be dissected in order to fully comprehend the voiceless character. this one doesn’t have much in the way of subjective intricacies; eva’s character remains consistent throughout, and while some characters (well – one character) interpret(s) her behavior in an unflattering light based on their own prejudices, the eva on the page comes through the same regardless of the narrator’s stance – good-hearted, a little clumsy, driven and talented. this is more of a charming read centered around a likable character than any sort of commentary about how we perceive others or construct our own narrative around them. it’s light and sweet and fun, which is not usually my cuppa, but i must have been in the right mood for it this time, because i enjoyed it, to my own delighted surprise.
there were a couple of things that halted me at the four-star cat mark – while i loved braque’s chapter overall, it was a little jarring when it dipped its toe in the magical realism pool, when the rest of the book was straight realism. and then the ending was a bit contrived and treacly, in that “coincidence jubilee” way that always makes my teeth itch.
but those were minor, karen-specific complaints. overall, this book was great – i loved the food writing, i loved the bake-off chapter, with its spotlight on how obnoxious modern-day foodies can be, and i even liked the inclusion of the recipes, even though they weren’t the most staggeringly exotic dishes in the world.
but this passage made me so hungry and jealous:
The third dish, a tiny cut of venison steak, about half the size of a playing card, with tomatoes and sweet pepper jelly, was a different matter. The venison, firm enough to meet your teeth, and soft enough to yield agreeably in your mouth, revealed subtle, steely new flavors with each bite, while the tomatoes were so full of richness and warm blood, it was like eating a sleeping animal. Their pairing, the light-bodied Pinot, didn’t erase these senses, it crept beneath their power, underlining them. It was about as much flavor as fifteen seconds were capable of; after one bite and one sip of wine, Cindy felt luminous and exhausted.
and this cracked me up:
“You want to feed carrot cake to a four-month-old?” Dr. Latch asked.
“Not a lot of carrot cake,” Lars said. “I mean, a small portion. A baby portion. I’m just concerned about the nuts in the recipe. I mean, I guess I could make it without nuts. But my mom always made it with nuts. What do you think?”
“Eighteen months. At the earliest. Probably wait until age two to be safe.”
“I could be wrong, but I remember my younger siblings eating carrot cake really young. There’s a picture of my brother Jarl on the day he turned one. They gave him a little carrot cake and he smeared it in his hair.”
“That’s the best outcome in that situation, probably.”
“Well, now he’s bald.”
“Looking over your dietary plan here, I’d have more immediate reservations.”
“Like what?”
“Well, pork shoulder to a three-month-old baby. Not advisable.”
“puréed, maybe?” Lars asked. “I could braise it first. Or maybe just roast the bones and make pork stock for a demi-glace. That wouldn’t be my first choice, though.”
“You work at Hutmacher’s, right?” Dr. Latch said. “You do make an excellent pork shoulder. But give it at least two years.”
“Two years, huh?” He didn’t want to tell Dr. Latch that this conversation crushed his heart, but the doctor seemed to perceive this.
“I understand your eagerness to share your life’s passion with your first child. I see different versions of this all the time. The time will come. For now, just breast milk and formula for the first three months.”
“That’s awful,” Lars said.
so cute.
it’s a light and enjoyable read, touching on the issues of nature v. nurture, family loyalty, reluctant maternity, the evolution of food culture, and the ripple effect of intersecting lives. a delicious debut. (groan)
also – on the back of my arc, in the “publicity” section, it says there will be a magazine editors farm-to-table luncheon and bookseller dinners. someone please come feed me food!!
